Woman v. Union Square: verdict upholds seperate but equal

I'm literally seeing red.

Today it's a beautiful day, probably one of the last before it starts getting cold. The sun is shining, it's not too windy and perfectly enough, my class was cancelled. So I thought, hmm why not spend this lovely afternoon enjoying the sun in Union Square. That's not asking too much, just a little moment of peace to enjoy the sunshine- a modest mission, right?

I scruntch up my jacket put it under my head and lie back. "How freeing it is to feel the sun on my face," I thought. A minute later, I hear a  old womens voice blaring in my ear: "You are lying in a very immodest position... and you probably wonder why men follow you home." Now, I might have pointed out that she looked like she'd probably die tomorrow of natural causes and I bet she had a really shitty life because she let other people run it, but I was distracted by the man sitting next to me who called out, "you know, she's right."

"EXCUSE ME."
"She's right, you shouldn't lie like that"
"If I was a man you wouldn't give a damn how I sat."
"That's right, but you're not, you're a woman."
"And I'm supposed to accomodate that?"
"Yup."
"Well that's WRONG so I'm gonna lie however the fuck I want"
"I mean you CAN lie however you want you just shouldn't if you don't want men to do something to."

Now, racism is a touchy subject so I'm probably about to piss some people off, but this man was black and he was probably alive during the Jim Crow laws. Doesn't he know social injustice? Shouldn't he at least have studied how fucked up "seperate but equal" is? He LITERALLY told me if I sit a certain way, I'll face reprecussions SOLELY because of the way I was born and he LITEARLLY told me men have the freedom to the persuit of happiness (lying in the SAME position in the SAME spot) without consequences and without fear while I do not because of my gender.
He thinks I'm lesser.
Yes maybe the law says I can sit that way, but I have to worry for my physical safety if I chose to do so? And if someone does decide to infringe upon by BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS it's MY fault because I didn't sit in "my section of of the bus," metaphorically speaking.

This example of sexism is no different than any other kind of "ism." In the 1890s blacks were told, "well legally you can do that, but you probably shouldn't cause you might get lynched." Today I was told, "well legally you can do that but you probably shouldn't cause you might get raped." Notice how the later statement is INFINITELY more socially acceptable than the former? But is it any less wrong?

Gay people can have civil unions but God help us if it's called a marriage.

Women can sit in the same spot as men but God help us of they sit in the same position. 

THIS IS SO WRONG. I am a citizen of this country, I should be able to sit wherever I want, in any position. I should be able to sit in a fucking diamond G-string with my legs over my head if I wanted to. I should NOT have to worry about my physical saftety because I want to rest my legs on a beautiful fall day. Fuck you, little old woman, and fuck you, offensive man.

Y'all can lick my ovaries.

Hello, my name is...[Gay/Straight/Bi: Circle ONE]

The more I read about female sexuality in other cultures the more I begin to question own our own culture's views. In the Westerner's view of female sexuality, you are either straight, lesbian, or bi. If you're a lesbian it means you can't want men, and if you're straight it means you can't want women. Those are some pretty rigid rules.

The term bisexual is a little more flexible, but even that word has some boundaries. It implies that you're attracted to both genders equally and that at any given moment you could ditch one for the other.

The problem with this mindset is that it totally constricts us- forcing us to block thoughts from our heads even before we've had them. As a "straight" woman, I wonder how many lesbionic inclinations I might have had before now had I not been raised to think I could only be gay straight  or bi. I say "inclinations" because they are not full blown female-on-female eroticisms, they're just inclinations. For example, today I was watching the Ellen Degeneres and noticed (after over-coming my social censor) that I was attracted to her in this particular episode. Her pants-suit and masculine haircut made her appear very androgynous and it was... kind of hot.

Now does this make me a full-fledged lesbian? Absolutely not. Love me some men. Does this make me bisexual? It's pretty safe to say no. I highly doubt I would be attracted enough towards a woman to partake in some good ol' fashioned lady sex. 

However when I overlook society's rigid categories and am extremely honest with myself, I can acknowledge that there are plenty of times when I feel a certain attraction towards a woman. I'm not sayin I want their face between my legs, but maybe I wouldn't mind kissing one. And sometimes the attraction isn't physical at all, sometimes, it's simply romantic. Someitimes I don't even want to be kissed, just nurtured in a way most men aren't comfortable with.

Even as I type this it feels taboo. Part of me is even a little tentative to post this because I don't want people to categorize me as bi. Not because there's anything wrong with being bi, just because I really don't think I am.

Despite my previous efforts, I am sexually attracted to men. And even when I find myself unexpectedly attracted to women it is nowhwere near the level to which I can be physically attracted to a man. But to ignore that feeling, however slight, might mean ignoring a beautiful part of my humanity, just because Western society has told me to. And as a twenty-year-old woman living in a rough city, I should probably take every chance I can get to connect with humanity.

Fathers, Be Good to Your Daughters

Because I consider myself to be a loud and proud feminist, many are surprised to learn that I have a beautiful relationship with my father. He is the wisest man I know and I am constantly learning from him. However, as I reach my adulthood, I am beginning to realize that there is one aspect of my life he does not yet understand:

What it feels like to be a woman in a patriarchal society.

What it feels like to be a member of a subordinate group in a a country founded on equality.

What it feels like to be a decedent of "the weaker sex."

He does not understand what it feels like to be followed three blocks by a group of people spewing physical threats at you. He does not understand what it feels like to have a stranger grip your waist when all you want to do is go home. He does not understand the fear his own flesh and blood feels walking anywhere at night, or the verbal attacks I face at any hour of the day, regardless of what I wear. 

And speaking of what I wear, consider this: If a biological male feels most comfortable walking down the street in a dress, this person should be able to do so in peace without obscene vulgar language being spewed at  them, true?

TRUE.

Therefore, if a woman feels most comfortable walking down the street in a tight, short, low-cut top, she  should be able to do so in peace without obscene vulgar language being spewed at her. No, men might not be able to control their eyeballs, but they can control their tongues. 

Instead, we must walk home at night the with that horrible feeling we never seem to tell our fathers about. That feeling of clenched fist, tight jaw, quickened steps; that pit in your stomach that says, please, just leave me. Please, just let me get to my destination. Please, just don't touch me.

And so, I have recently made it my mission to make my him understand.

I think that it is important for a father to understand his daughter's experience, and I can't help but wonder:

If every father truly knew how hurt and damaged their daughters were by the behavior of certain men, and how frequently their "little girls" were afflicted with this pain, wouldn't they be angry too? Wouldn't they want change?

We have tried to seek change through our own anger, and anger is indeed a very powerful force. But I feel it isn't enough. We need something greater.

And the only force more powerful than hate is empathy.

Fight the media, Feminist!

With shows like Drop Dead Diva and Tool Academy blazing through the media, I think we could all use a bit of a reality check.

Women. Women, women, women. 

1) You are beautiful. You boobs aren't too small, your thighs are not thunderous, your hair is not out of control, your arms are not too saggy, and yes, you can leave the house without makeup. I'm not bullshitting you. I really believe that.

2) Skinny does NOT equal Love. We as a nation seem to have this convoluted idea that being fat is worse than being dead. Just look at that god awful "overweight bachelor" show. All these poor women talk about is how lucky they feel to finally get a chance at love because this wonderful man is willing to overlook they're fatal flaw of not fitting into a size 2. Come ON America. This is ridiculous. These women are not only intelligent, caring, and funny, but they're also REALLY PRETTY! They don't need him!

 Oh, and let's talk about Drop Dead Diva. Ok, So a model dies and her soul is put in the body of (god forbid!) a larger brunette. And so now she has to... what deal with being large and brunette? That is the conflict?! 

That shouldn't even be an issue. It's really NOT that big a deal. It's not a curse. It's just a different body. Love it and be glad ya not dead.

3) You deserve loving, loyal boyfriends.  You should know how wonderful you are, and you should demand that anyone who is lucky enough to be wanted by you knows that too. If he doesn't, you don't need him; you can do so much better. He should think your beautiful, he should think your body is perfect as it is, and if he says he's committed to you then he better be committed to you. If this is not the case, don't try to change and BY GOD do not accept the situation. I'm not sayin great guys are everywhere (I haven't met a whole shit ton of them) but I will say, you're WAY better by yourself than you are with the next contestant of Tool Academy.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is, with all of this media bullshit invading our homes it's difficult to remember how important is is to love ourselves. Now, I'm no authority, but I happen to think the curves of a woman are beautiful. I happen to think that our capacity to communicate is truly special. I feel so lucky to have my breasts and my hips and to be able to communicate with both sides of my brain. I am a woman who truly loves being a woman. That's what being a feminist means to me: A woman who truly loves being a woman. 

I just wish there were more of us. 

4am and i'm still awake writing a song

Alright men, it's 4:23 am, i'm drunk, and i've got some beef.

I've tried saying it every modern way i can so maybe i should try some old english.

WHY DOEST THOU FUCK WITH US?

You know exactly what I'm talking about. Just when we're in a divine place, once we've finally centered ourselves, entered healthy relationships and felt good about the paths we've chosen you come in like a fucking tornado and jumble shit up. i mean i may be short, but this ain't Oz. Chill out. Maybe leave us alone? We may not want you to because we're confused and involuntarily open-hearted, but he-who-plays-mind-games causes damage. He-who-fucks-with-heads fucks people up. And we've worked SO hard not to be bitter. We've done SO much soul searching not to be cynical. And just when we can feel the eastern religious views of meditation and mindfulness flowing through our veins, one or two, or multiple people in my unique case barge in and fuck shit up. Making our back muscles tense and our jaws tighten. Making our eyebrows furrow and our hearts "crust," as good ol' Siddhartha would say.  And usually it's the people who know we're a little fucked up who like to kick us when we happy. Usually it's the people who know our prior confusion who like to confuse us when we've finally got our shit together. They swoop in like flying monkeys, invading our brains and shaking our very new foundations. Isn't that a form of evil-- to dissolve newfound solidity? Isn't that some branch of horrid? 

And if that's the case, then when you're in a drunken state of honesty at 4:23 am, how can you not be bitter?

Is She Really Dating Horse Shit?

This morning, as I ate my toast, I made the horrible mistake of choosing MTV over Bravo.  I was enticed by a series I had never seen before "Is She Really Going Out With Him." The description reads "Beautiful, sweet young women date obnoxious guys."

A recipe for obscenity. 

Ok, so I typed that on a commercial break and the show just ended. I want to throw up. I literally want to vomit.

SO. This girl michelle is a beautiful soft-spoken blonde who works full time as a nurse. She is intelligent kind and articulate.

Blake is her live-in boyfriend. He is a piece of shit. 

Blake has been unemployed for months and isn't looking for a job because he thinks he's too good for it (really, fucktard? because I'm pretty sure sitting of your fat ass watching Japanese  action films with subtitles you probably can't even read doesn't exactly market you as a highly competitive member of the workforce. Ya dickwad.) 

So naive and "optimistic" Michelle gets this trashbag a job interview and buys him a 300$ suit. In true trashbag style, Blake gets all dressed up in the suit until Michelle leaves for work, ditches the interview and has a BBQ with his redneck friends, using Michelle's money to pay for the food. She calls him on the phone she bought him to wish him luck on the interview and he ignores her calls. She's so paranoid that she leaves work to go home and check up on him. She finds him in the height of his festivities and tells everyone to leave in an offensively calm and collected manner. His white trash friends don't leave until Blake tells them to leave. On his way out, Red Neck Friend #1 looks at Michelle and retorts, "you gonna clean this stuff up?" 

I gripped the arm chair.

The naive, "optimistic," and apparently self-loathing Michelle does manage to kick him out for a few days, but she takes him back, thinking everything will be different because he managed to land a sales job in the days he was gone.  "He's proven to me he really cares."

I felt my nails dig deeper into the cushion. 

I bit my lip.

HE CARES?! HE REALLY CARES?! Well done, Blake, you got a job. You're a member of society. You're doing what everyone else has been doing since they were 15. Well done, you pathetic mound of horse shit.

And you, Michelle! I'm sure you're a nice person, so I hate to be as harsh as I'd like to be, but you're kind of ruining our movement here. By appeasing pathetic mounds of horse shit, you're excusing behavior that is SO beyond inexcusable and your allowing yourself to be degraded and made a fool. In front of all the middle schoolers and myself watching MTV. 

I know the reality of all reality shows is questionable, but these people exist. These people live in THIS country. Women in THIS COUNTRY date men like Blake, who promise to take their long time girlfriends out to dinner and leave them with a $250.00 check.

I'm embarrassed to sing the same National Anthem as them.

Sex and Nacho Bell Grandes

When I've abandoned my blog for weeks there is always one thing that gets my fingers slamming on the key pad:

Sex And The City.

Tonight I indulged in one of the first episodes, in which Carrie is researching how to "have sex like a man." For those of you who didn't spend your high school years with your eyes glued to HBO on Demand, this entails "having sex and then feeling nothing." Carrie tries and walks out feeling like a million bucks, but when she runs into him again, he hardly felt fucked over. Figuratively, anyway. He was thrilled that she finally understood what he'd wanted all along.

"So any time I want to have sex, I'll call you," she half-heartedly stated with a sudden loss of confidence. 

Alright. If you live in New York and you're as busy as the next novel-reader on the subway, chances are you've got that acquaintance you call when you need a little... echem... stress release. And you actually really do care more about your orgasm than his lack of feelings for you.

I know what it's like to be stressed. No worries. 

But is that really the goal? It seems more like a rest-stop, a taco supreme on your 6 hour road trip to visit your cousin in Maine. Who's a chef. 

For better or worse, when I was 15 Sex and The City was my bible. When I inhaled I smelled their Cosmopolitans and when I exhaled I imagined their orgasms.

And I wasn't even sexually active yet. 

At the time, their characters seemed so real and their dilemmas  so oddly relatable. At 15, I was as bitter as Miranda and as over-analytical as Carrie. For the first time in my youth I felt like something was acknowledging feelings I had as a female and validating them.

Why then, at twenty years old, am I suddenly so turned off by it?

To "have sex like a man, you know, feel nothing" now bothers me in so many ways. Allow me to list them:

1) Despite prior beliefs, men do fall in love. So maybe they feel nothing with you, but they're gonna feel something with someone else. You're taco bell. If you're cool with that and they just so happen to be Mickey Ds, than go right ahead. Do yo thang. As long as you know. 

2) There are certainly times when women have sex and feel nothing-- just ask their casual acquaintances. It's not exclusive to men. Women do it all the time, they just don't make a big stink about it because honestly, who brags about downing a taco supreme. It feels great, but it's not exactly newsworthy. 

3) Alright Carrie, here me out: at the end of the episode you were bummed. You were bummed because this guy was just as cool with it as you were. AKA you were pissed because he didn't feel used and degraded like you did all the other times you hooked up with him. Revenge can never be a goal of meaningless sex. After all what could possibly be more chock full of meaning than revenge? You don't down a Nacho Bell Grande cause your pissed your taco supreme wasn't good enough. 

Well now that I've spent my night analyzing the life choices of a fictional character through a fast-food metaphor I should probably be off. 

But I'm sure I'll be back after my next Big Mac.